Repeat Business

by Lyn McConchie

  “You may repose your trust in me, Holmes.”

  His look softened. “I do, my dear Watson. I do.”

  And yet I still felt I had failed him when the letters I had collected showed no sign of anything untoward, but the information still appeared, as we had feared it would. However, to my surprise Holmes did not appear downcast.

  “What is it? Do you believe you have some further clue to this business?”

  “So I believe, Watson. As I have said before, eliminate the impossible and whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

  “But what is that truth, Holmes? The three we suspect have been watched by men you trust, and before that other reliable men watched them. They have not left the information behind them in the bank. They have not communicated the information by letter or telephone. They have passed nothing on the ’bus or to a hansom-cab driver. They have met with no one. They have not left their homes that night, nor has any member of their family. They lead blameless lives: they, their families, their servants, and their associates. How in heaven’s name, Holmes, can any of these men be passing information? They are ordinary men, and yet they are baffling the finest brain in England.”

  “Perhaps because one of them is not an ordinary man, Watson.” He said, leaning back and surveying my bewildered countenance. “Consider, my dear fellow. We have here a private bank that every few years may be intimately involved in negotiations with foreign powers. Why? Because Lord Calverton heads the Foreign Office, and this is the bank he and his family have used and trusted for several generations. But the agents of foreign powers are as aware of that as I am. Would it not be a coup for them to have an agent in place awaiting further negotiations?”

  “I can see that it would.” I said slowly. “So you believe that it is this man who is passing gossip to the newspaper? But, surely, that would be folly?”

  “I think it more likely to be simple greed. He has the system in place or perhaps he is using another, but with the same idea behind it. Either way he will be making some profit on his additional activities, and it may be that he has need of the money. Perhaps for some reason he dares not tell his true employers.”

  I considered this thought, and raised my head. “Could it be that he is in debt, some form of that which—if known to the bank—would have him dismissed from his position, the position in which he was so carefully placed?”

  Holmes surveyed me with approval. “Exactly so, Watson. That was one of my thoughts, and I have already set Jack and his friend to making inquiries on the subject, along with a further possibility.”

  “What is that, Holmes?”

  “That some pastimes do more than pass the time.”

  I could half-catch at the meaning of that, but I was uncertain, so—not wishing to seem foolish after my acumen had been once applauded—I said no more. However, I continued to think about the three men under suspicion, and at length I came to the conclusion that I was right and it was Belden who was the spy. Perhaps his wife had been deliberately led into temptation so that he might be the more entangled.

  I was less sure of my theory when Holmes next spoke to me. “My dear fellow, can you do me a small favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then will you go to the railway station, engage a hansom to be waiting for you there. I want you to meet a man who is coming from Guildford in Surrey to give me information.”

  My thoughts at once turned to the one of our three suspects who had worked in that town previously. Of course, I had been blind while my friend had seen clearly. Gerald Ainstruther lived in a set of rooms with a landlady who would see nothing which might deprive her of one of her best tenants. Nor did she have any personal reason to question his comings and goings. He had lived there for only five years, and where had he been before, but in Surrey working at the main bank there.

  My mind leaped to another possibility. Was the man the London bank knew as Gerald Ainstruther even the original worker so well liked in Guildford? Could the real man have been murdered by a foreign power while the counterfeit Ainstruther took his place? Ainstruther collected foreign stamps. He must write to obtain them, perhaps his letters were in code and went to foreign agents?

  It must be that the man I was meeting had once been a colleague of the real Ainstruther. He would be brought face-to-face with the suspect and would denounce him. After all, Gerald Ainstruther had no family, no female associates, and that surely was befitting for the life of a spy? I went eagerly to the railway station, met the man as requested, and brought him back with me to the rooms in which my friend awaited us.

  To my mild annoyance there was no discussion. It was near the close of business and we left again in a hansom to wait on the street near the bank’s main exit. Promptly and on time all three men exited the building.

  Holmes turned to the man with us. “There—is that the man you know?”

  “It is indeed, sir.”

  “Thank you, you have been of inestimable help. Allow me to defray your expenses in coming all this way at my request.” He passed over a sealed envelope and turned to me. “Come, Watson. We will allow this gentleman to return to his home while I lay my hands on the final pieces in the puzzle. I confess I have been somewhat astray for a while in this case. It was not all of a piece, but two similar deeds overlapping, both committed by the same person, but for different motives and in slightly different ways.”

  I was surprised that the man appeared to know Belden, but reflected that perhaps it was under some other name that he had done so. This then would support my theory that the real Belden was not the man we knew by that name and who was employed in the building before us.

  “Where are we going now?” I asked.

  “Home, Watson. But the morning shall tell a different tale. Holder informed the suspects of two things this afternoon; one was further scandal, a very unpleasant tale about the King of Herzegovina. The other information was of certain recently scheduled dates on which some of the planned negotiations shall be carried out. The foreign power involved would like to know those in advance so as to have more time to prepare their case.

  “If you have some time to spare, you shall be in at the kill. I have requested Holder to bring the three suspects together with his partner to a side room at ten o’clock. You and I shall attend with our assistants, Jack, Will, and Jethro. There we shall have the men into the main boardroom in turn and I shall reveal the spy in our midst.”

  Holmes’ man, Will, met us as we alighted. Speaking quietly, he gave my friend a clumsily written report. I could make no sense of it but the information ran as follows. ‘Belden has his tea with no milk and one sugar. Ainstruther likes milk and two sugars, while Mannison don’t use milk and likes two sugars too.’

  We entered the bank and were escorted quietly along the seemingly endless passage. At once Holmes halted to look at a notice-board which bore a piece of paper asking for all to sign below who wished to attend the performance of As You Like It in Covent Gardens the following Saturday evening, with a second ruled piece beneath for the signatures. Needless to say my heart was racing when at last we were ushered through the waiting room and into the boardroom. It was clear to me, as we passed them, that the three men knew some crisis was upon them, and all looked to be thoroughly nervous as to what might befall them. Belden was called in first and Holmes addressed him quietly.

  “Sir, it has come to the bank’s notice that you owe a large debt which is long overdue, suggesting that you are finding some difficulty in paying.” He placed the bill before the clerk. “Can you explain this?”

  I saw the man heave a sigh of relief. “I can, sir. My wife is young and can be foolish. She ordered these dresses and could not pay from the money I allow her each month, but she was afraid to tell me of it. At length, finding her repeated requests for payment ignored, my wife’s dressmaker brought the bill to my attention and I have paid it.”

  “It was a large sum?”

  “That is so, sir. But by
making small economies of late I have been able to pay it in several installments. I have scolded my wife and I am convinced she will not be so foolish again.”

  My mind went back to the report. It fitted. Belden had recently begun to use the ’bus rather than a hansom even when the weather was very bad. The man was—alas—married to a young and sometimes extravagant wife, but he was an honest man. Then my second suspicion must be the correct one? The spy was Ainstruther, real or false, whichever he might be. No doubt Holmes would have him in last of all. I glanced up as the next man was ushered in, and observed that he must have flung his jacket on in haste since the buttons were unevenly fastened and one side bagged out in consequence.

  Holmes leaned forward, his tone confident, the voice of a man who knows without doubt that what he says is true. “Mannison, how could you betray the confidence which this bank has always reposed in you?”

  I saw the man’s lips tighten before he replied cautiously. “I, sir?”

  “Yes, you have sold information to a newspaper concerning certain clients of the bank. Do not attempt to deny it, I have a confession from your confederate, the bank’s doorman, an ex-army officer with whom you previously served. Furthermore a certain expert identified you and explained what had brought you to him. What prompted you to such folly? You must at least lose your position although the bank is not inclined to press charges on this.”

  Mannison seemed to fold in on himself in relief at that last statement.

  “I have been a fool, sir. But, as you may have heard, I am accepted in certain circles as something of an authority on Shakespeare. Just on a month ago I was offered two first folios, one of Shakespeare, and the other by a French writer. I examined the works and was convinced both were genuine. I did not have the cash in hand to buy them, nor did I want the second work, however I knew I could dispose of it for far more than I was asked to pay. This would cover my purchase of both, and my retention of the Shakespeare for my own pleasure, so I therefore borrowed the money from a little-used account at this bank and purchased both works.

  “What was my horror when the vendor had gone and I took both works to an expert, to be told that both folios were cleverly constructed fakes. I could sell neither to redeem the money I had borrowed, and all too soon I would be found out and disgraced. It was then that I was approached by an old acquaintance who suggested that we could make money by selling information to the reporter who writes the gossip section entitled Tidbits. I was tempted and I fell, sir. And that’s the long and the short of it. How is it that I am found out?”

  “Yes,” said Holmes, thoughtfully. “I expected you to ask that question. The matter was quite simple. I heard that a forger had sold two first folios to a collector for a sum that was substantial. I knew you to be a lover and collector of such work. Then I had your wastebasket in the bank searched and a list of everything found there was brought to me.

  “One item struck me as interesting. Two halves of a large squeezed lemon. You do not drink your tea with lemon, so for what purpose were you using a quantity of lemon-juice? To me there was one obvious purpose, one known to many schoolboys. You can use the juice as invisible ink.” I heard gasps from the others present and knew this was the first they had heard of the possibility.

  “You wrote your information onto a small piece of paper in the lemon juice, let that dry, and once your accomplice had procured your regular cab for you, you pressed the paper into his hand. Anyone seeing this would merely assume that you were tipping him for the service—even supposing they thought of it at all. Once he too departed for the night, he had only to take the paper to the reporter who held it before a flame or fire of some sort. The information would then appear. Have I the truth?”

  Mannison stepped backwards by several paces, seeming to feel deeply ashamed. “You have, sir. I am guilty, I will go at once and the bank need never see me again.”

  “Not quite yet, Mr. Mannison, there is one more matter. Betraying the owners of this bank who trusted you is something, which could perhaps, be kept silent. Betraying your country for money is not a matter for silence. Yes, I know about that also.” in response to the desperate look flung at him.

  “In case you think that I am bluffing, I have only to quote an item. ‘Staff who would care to attend the performance of Shakespeare’s As You Like It, shall write their names on this notice.’”

  Mannison’s face twisted in horror. “You know!” He dragged a small pistol from his pocket and held it to his temple, his voice rising to a wail. “It was not for money, I was blackmailed, the devils found out my secret. The doing was mine, but the shame would descend upon those who are blameless.”

  “Come, man, there are other ways to deal with this.”

  “No, no, I cannot.…” Then came the shot, I had a glimpse of the thing with the ruined head dropping limply to the ground before my friend strode forward, tore down a curtain, and flung it over the body. Lestrade almost fell through the door, his gaze going at once to the motionless covered figure.

  “Ah, took the quick way out, did he? Well, enough. It would not have pleased my superiors had we to prosecute the fool openly.”

  “Exactly.” Holmes replied coolly, “Which is why when I saw he was armed, I made no attempt to take the pistol from him. I thought he would prefer to die rather than disgrace his daughters, and merely holding us up so that he might flee would have done him no good. I believed he had the sense to see that.

  “However, you will have better luck with the man who cleans the bank after everyone else has left each night. He is the real villain. It is he who takes down the notices that Mannison pins up on the bank’s notice-board, replaces them with a spare copy of the first portion of the information, and takes the original notice back to his master where heat is applied as I described to Mannison, and a certain power is enlightened as to our country’s intentions.”

  Lestrade smiled grimly. “Wonderful, Mr. Holmes. He arrived only a short time ago and I have the bank sealed off. We have him in the bag and he may even talk.”

  Alexander Holder was still looking sadly at the body of his once trusted employee. “What secret can have impelled him to do this?”

  Holmes waved his assistants to leave so that only I, the owners of the bank and Lestrade remained to listen. “That secret I suspected as soon as I knew the traitor,” he said. “It took no more than a few questions in the right place. Mannison fell in love while still employed by the army in India. He married a respectable girl of the middle-classes—who was however, by blood, one-quarter of the country. She bore him two daughters before she died and he loved them both passionately.

  “He returned to England and no one here knew that to him, the blood of his children carried a taint which would shame them and their own families unbearably if it were generally known. Although he had loved his wife deeply, he was not perhaps entirely rational on the subject, but it is true some would look askance at his daughters, so I hope that it can be kept secret still?” He looked at Lestrade, who nodded.

  Alexander Holder stood. “He was a good employee until he was tempted and threatened beyond his bearing,” he said quietly. “And it seems he was a loving husband and father. Let that be his epitaph.”

  A PERFECT JEWEL

  Sherlock was gazing out of the window while I read the newspaper one morning. All was peaceful and since we had just solved a difficult, dangerous, and unpleasant case and now looked for a period of peace, I was surprised to hear him utter a loud groan.

  “Why, Holmes, what is it?”

  “How can he have found further trouble in so short a time? It must be no more than seven months since he was last here.” Holmes was speaking to himself. Then, to me, he said. “I recognize the man approaching our door, as will you if—as it appears—he is coming to ask my help again.”

  “Who is it, my dear fellow?”

  Holmes uttered only one word. “Norbury.”

  “Ah,” I said. It was true that had not been one of Holmes’ most
glorious cases. On the contrary, Holmes, for one of the very few times in his life, had come to conclusions that were completely wrong. Once the case was concluded Holmes had gone so far as to advise me to say the name of Norbury to him any time it should appear to me that he was becoming overconfident in his abilities.

  All had ended happily though, so that now I wondered why Mr. Grant Munro should be at our doorstep for a second time in less than a year. I heard the sounds of the knocker, followed by footsteps on the stairs, and knew that we were shortly to know the answer to my unspoken question.

  The man was shown in; I greeted him politely, offered refreshment, and we raced through the amenities before, with him comfortably seated, we could begin the conversation.

  He looked at us both and smiled briefly. “Before you ask me, gentlemen, no, I have no suspicions of my wife. This time it may be my adopted daughter who requires your aid.”

  “What?” I asked, “Your wife’s child by her first husband? You adopted her legally then?”

  “I did. We went before a lawyer, her name is changed to my own, and she is in all ways my daughter, gentlemen. I care not that her father was black and my wife (her mother) and I am not. I love her as my own and she loves me.”

  Holmes nodded, and I saw the deepest approval in his gaze. “So why then have you come to consult me, Mr. Munro?”

  “To explain I must go back to the beginning. Shortly after, with your assistance, I discovered the existence of a child by my wife’s first husband,” (here I saw Holmes wince) “I had the chance to buy at a very reasonable price a large farmhouse just outside the town in which I have my place of business. Feeling that sufficient area to run about on and play would be good for Lucy, I therefore sold the house I owned and purchased this small estate.